This is Going to Be a Long Year
by The TARDIS is My Patronus
Summary: Dean and Castiel were polar opposites. Dean did everything he could to escape being instructed, while Cas, well- he lived for it. So what happens when their antithetical paths cross? A fluffy DESTIEL fanfic set in an AU. Totally not as crappy as it sounds. I hope.
1. Chapter 1

** "Are you _serious_?" **Dean Winchester, a snarky seventeen year-old, placed his forehead against the cold metal of his pick-up truck. He kicked the passenger door and cursed into the cool, autumn air. He sighed, shaking his head, and grabbed his cell-phone. He dialed his younger brother, Sam's, number first.

"Dean?" a groggy voice asked, "Wha- where are you?"

"I don't know," Dean circled the truck. "Outside?"

Sam yawned, before replying, "Dude, you're in so much trouble."

"Yeah, yeah," he shook his head, "My _car_ broke down- can you come pick me up?"

"I'm _thirteen_, Dean. No, no I can't."

Dean groaned and kicked the dirt beside the road, "Is Bobby up?"

"You're so _majorly_ screwed," Sam laughed.

* * *

Dean was late to school the next day. He was up all night being lectured by Bobby, his father's best friend, ensuring hell the next day.

He woke up almost forty-five minutes late, to the sound of his cellphone ringing. He assumed it was some telemarketer, so he just sent the call to voicemail. It wasn't a telemarketer. It was Sam.

"What the?" Dean muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. Not even five seconds later, he found himself struggling to put on a clean pair of pants. He quickly brushed his teeth using some Mountain Dew, sprayed himself silly with cologne, and ran out the door, leaving his school supplies behind.

* * *

**"Class," ****Mr. Norbert, Dean's homeroom teacher said, "This is Castiel."**

Some kids mumbled a quick 'hey' or 'whatever,' but Castiel could tell they didn't really care. Nobody ever did.

"Well, Mr. Novak, you can have a seat to Mr. Winchester. Dean, raise your hand," Mr. Norbert commanded. He looked around the room, "Dean? Absent. Again?"

He sighed and then turned to Castiel, "It's the first column, third row. Right behind Charlie, the- uh- girl reading, what is that? Harry Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Castiel said, quietly. "Thank you, sir."

Castiel sat down quietly, taking in his environment.

Just then, a kid, covered in sweat and, what looked like, dirt, ran into the classroom, panting. "Did I make it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

The teacher shook his head, "So close, though, Mr. Winchester. Take a seat and I'll let it slide."

Castiel froze when he heard 'Mr. Winchester.' The same Winchester he was going to be seated next to? He hoped that Winchester was a common last name here.

Dean walked over and plopped himself down next to Castiel, not even noticing that he was there.

* * *

**Okay. That was a crappy first draft of a fluffy Destiel fanfic. **

**Mmmn. Okay.**

**Well then. Yeah.**

* * *

~DFTBA~ The TARDIS is My Patronus


	2. Chapter 2

** Palpitat amoris omnes.**

* * *

**Castiel didn't want to move. **He liked his old town, his old school, perfectly fine.

He liked the long walks home, the trips to the local bakery. It was his hometown; the place where he grew up. The place where he learned how to fish and swim and paint, where he learned how to walk and talk. It was where he had his first kiss, with Maison Krazpack, where he learned to speak fluently in more than five different languages.

He liked knowing exactly where everything was; he was _never_ lost in his old town.

* * *

He felt like a fish out of water.

Figuratively, obviously- Castiel had no idea what an actual fish out of water felt like. He, however, had imagined it would not be a pleasant feeling. A feeling of suffocation, perhaps? He, of course, had no idea what that felt like, either, but he often imagined it.

"Excuse me?" he'd ask politely, holding out a piece of paper. His peers would just rush right past.

A student was assigned to him at the beginning of the day, but they were nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until the school-bell rang that Castiel found his way to room 114.

As soon as he entered his fourth period class, Latin, he forgot how to speak. People were staring at him. The teacher glanced over to him, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised and asked, "Can I help you?"

"_Castiel nomen meum. Ego novi occurrit,_" he nodded, hands shaking.

"_Et?_" the teacher asked, smirking a little.

"_Mrs. Lamenstroff, es?_" he shook his head, "_Magistro meo, puto Latin._"

"Yes. Welcome, Castiel," Mrs. Lamenstroff smiled. "Take a seat next to Andrea. Barr, raise your hand, please, so Castiel will know where to sit."

Castiel turned around, but all he noticed was Dean Winchester, who was sitting directly in front of Andrea. He walked over to his seat and set down his books, trying to avoid eye-contact with any of his peers.

* * *

**Dean had seen this kid before. **

He was sure of it. He couldn't pinpoint where, exactly, but he knew he had seen him somewhere.

"_Quid novi?_" Dean asked him as he sat down; this Castiel kid wasn't the only one who could speak fluent Latin.

Castiel looked up, awkwardly, and mumbled, "Er- sorry, I don't speak Spanish." Which was a lie.

In honesty, he just didn't want to speak; his day had been long enough.

What he didn't realize was that doing so made him seem even weirder; weirder than he actually was.

"Uh," Dean chuckled, shaking his head, slightly, "I was speaking Latin, the language you were just, _fluently,_ speaking."

Castiel winced, "I have a headache, could you-"

"Enough talking," the teacher scolded, tapping the board with her yardstick, "Pay attention, Winchester."

She, then, went on to explain the Satyricon, some book by Petronius.


End file.
